Prilukoff, who discerned that Kamarowsky was in love with Marie, conceived a scheme by which they eventually extracted a large sum from him. Scarcely had the swindle been accomplished than Marie heard that her husband had divorced her. She was free to marry again, and she had already pledged her word to the swindling lawyer to take his name, but Count Paul Kamarowsky, rich, of noble family, and likely to make a devoted husband, was going to propose to her!
The count did so that very night, and Marie accepted him, extracting a promise that he would keep their engagement a secret. She was terrified lest Prilukoff should tell Paul that she was his, and so she played with the two men, keeping them apart and persuading each that he was the chosen bridegroom, though well aware that she was in the power of Prilukoff and that she dare not disobey him.
Marie was not in love. As I have said, her capacity for love had ceased to exist with the death of Alexis Bozevsky, but she wanted Kamarowsky's fortune, and she would obtain it only by conspiring with Donat Prilukoff, the dishonest lawyer, her master.
As though the situation was not sufficiently complicated, a third lover now came on the scene. This was Nicholas Naumoff, a youngster of twenty, the only son of the governor of Orel. Nicholas and Kamarowsky were devoted friends, and when the count introduced him to Marie he succumbed on the spot to the charmer.
With three lovers, one of whom held her in the hollow of his hand, Marie Tarnowska had a breathlessly exciting time. In the old days she would have enjoyed the situation, but now she hungered and thirsted for gold, and it was of money only that she thought whenever she asked herself what she should do.
The lawyer from Moscow haunted her. How she wished that he would die and leave her to marry the rich Count Kamarowsky, the man who could take her back into society and open the doors now closed to her! Marriage with Prilukoff would mean the perpetuation of her disgrace, and she would inevitably sink lower; yet she dare not move without his permission, and whenever he came to her she had to do his bidding.
It was a cruel trick of Fate's to put her in such a position. Countess Tarnowska, who had once driven men crazy by her capriciousness, the beauty who could pick and choose her lovers—and did so—was now at the beck and call of an ugly lawyer with an ugly record! She shed bitter tears, and was only comforted when Prilukoff whispered that there was a way of getting Kamarowsky's fortune and never knowing again the terrors of poverty.
Meanwhile, Paul Kamarowsky suggested that they should prepare for their wedding. Marie, who only dreamt of the time when she would be his, had to plead for a postponement, knowing that if she fixed the date Prilukoff would do something desperate. But despite her dislike for the lawyer she complained to him that Kamarowsky had not yet referred to financial matters.
Prilukoff, confident that Marie could not escape his clutches, propounded a plan whereby Kamarowsky was to be induced to make his will in her favour and also insure his life for £25,000 on her behalf. The trick was simplicity itself.
Prilukoff allowed Marie to dine with Kamarowsky in an hotel at Venice, where they were all staying, and in the middle of the dinner a waiter handed the woman a letter. Marie started and went crimson when she read it, and her companion, insisting on seeing what had disturbed his fiancée, read the note, which purported to have been written by a well-known Russian prince offering to settle his fortune on her and insure his life for £25,000 if only she would return to Russia and marry him. Prilukoff had, of course, written the letter, and Marie Tarnowska acted her part so realistically that the next day Kamarowsky's will and insurance on his life were facts, and she was heiress to both!